Modern Romance April 2016 Books 1-4. Cathy Williams
He had made a mistake, a serious mistake, he acknowledged with a sinking heart, and now he had to pray that he had sufficient time and the opportunity to put it right. And if he didn’t?
Santa Madonna, that option could not even be considered!
Why the hell had he valued his pride above every other thing in his life for so many years? How on earth had he allowed a past bad experience to cast such a dangerous shadow over the present and potentially destroy his future?
And you thought you were so cool, so clever, he reasoned in a daze of growing shock at the mess he had created. But the creed of silence as a form of protection had been bred into his very bones at his father’s knee. Never tell, never explain, never apologise. And before he had experienced that one weak moment with Jemima he had never broken that rule. He had kept his secrets. He had kept them from the media too. Indeed he had buried those sleazy secrets deep and had refused even to think about them, for that was the safest, wisest way to hold on to sanity.
He had never dwelt on his mistakes because he was a rational man and it came naturally to him to move on past and not look back at car wrecks. Even so, those mistakes had seriously influenced the choices he had made, he conceded belatedly. Furthermore, Jemima didn’t have his conditioning or his inhibitions and she would not understand...
* * *
The helicopter came in over the bay while Jemima was having breakfast with everyone in the shaded loggia on the ground floor. Nicky dropped his toast as he waved his hands with excitement, straining in his high chair to get a better view of the craft as it dropped down out of sight to land in the castle grounds.
‘Is that Luciano coming back?’ Ellie asked uncertainly.
‘I doubt it. He’s not due until tomorrow,’ Jemima said a little tiredly because she had not slept well. ‘And he’s a stickler for his schedules.’
‘I suspect,’ her father murmured warmly as he stared over her shoulder, ‘that your bridegroom missed you more than you know because here he is now...’
Jemima twisted her head round so fast she risked a whiplash injury and she thrust her chair back and stood up to stare in surprise at the male striding through the gardens towards them. It was, without a doubt, Luciano. Sheathed in a dark business suit teamed with a white shirt and silvery tie, he looked both formal and formidable. His lean, darkly handsome face was taut, the line of his beautiful mouth forbidding. A jolt of dismay ran through Jemima and quite instinctively she found herself wondering if she had done something wrong.
His stunning dark golden eyes immediately sought hers as though he was looking for something and then he quickly turned his attention on to their guests and his first physical meeting with her parents. To a backdrop of Nicky’s squeals of excitement and loud vocal appeals to be noticed, Luciano responded smoothly and pleasantly to the tide of introductions before stooping to detach Nicky from his harness and lift him into his arms.
‘Hush,’ he said softly to his son while ruffling his hair. ‘You can’t always be the centre of attention.’
‘Well, when he isn’t he likes to let us know he doesn’t like it!’ her father quipped cheerfully. ‘He’s a terrific little scene stealer.’
‘Let me take him,’ Jemima’s mother urged, holding out her arms. ‘You and Jemima should have some time together in peace.’
Nicky complained loudly at the transfer, demanded Jemima with pleading arms and then sobbed. Carlotta came out of the house to help while Jemima hovered, her attention anxiously pinned to Luciano, for all her nervous antennae were still telling her that something was badly wrong. His long, lean, powerful body was incredibly tense, his movements less fluid than usual and his lean, strong face taut with self-discipline.
Oh, my goodness, she thought in sudden consternation. Maybe he had returned early because he had changed his mind about marrying her! It was a nightmare scenario with the wedding guests and her family already staying at the castle, but it was perfectly possible that he had got cold feet and come back early to tell her. Jemima was quite convinced that such disasters had occurred to better women than her and it was surely more likely to happen when a man wasn’t in love with the woman he had asked to marry him.
Luciano shot another veiled glance at Jemima. She was pale and there were shadows below her beautiful pale eyes and he could see that she looked nothing like a happy bride on the brink of her wedding. Inwardly he cursed himself again and he reached for her hand.
‘Will you come for a walk with me?’ he intoned in a roughened undertone. ‘We have a visit to make.’
Her brow furrowed as he deftly walked her away from the breakfast table. ‘A visit?’
‘I believe you had tea with Sancia yesterday—’
‘My goodness, the grapevine around here is positively supersonic!’ Jemima countered while she thought fast.
‘I like to keep an eye on events when I’m unable to be present in person,’ Luciano assured her with a perfectly straight face.
Controlling...much? But Jemima said nothing because she knew that he was upset and she couldn’t bear that. Glancing up at him, she could see the haunted look she had seen before was back in his eyes and she could see that, for all that he looked spectacular, he must have been travelling all night and lines of strain were etched between his classic nose and even more perfect mouth. Of course, if he wanted to cancel the wedding, he would be feeling awfully guilty about it, she thought painfully.
‘What did you think of Sancia?’
‘We don’t have much in common,’ Jemima replied mildly.
‘She was a bitch to you, wasn’t she?’ Luciano growled within sight of the guest cottage above the beach.
Taken aback, Jemima came to a halt and stared up at him. ‘I—’
‘I can be selfish but I’m not stupid...most of the time,’ Luciano tacked on, compressing his hard mouth. ‘I’ve been foolish—’
‘It’s all right...whatever you decide to do, it’s all right. Just don’t be upset about it,’ Jemima mumbled helplessly, resisting the urge to wrap both arms around him and offer him comfort. Even in the overly emotional mood she was in, she knew that was not the normal way to behave when a man dumped you and that the very last thing she should be worrying about was how he felt. And yet that urge was engrained in her when he was around, she thought painfully as he closed his hand firmly round hers and urged her on towards the cottage.
‘Why are we going to see Sancia?’ she prompted uncomprehendingly. ‘I admit she wasn’t the kindest hostess but I have nothing more to say to her.’
‘But I have plenty to say,’ Luciano incised, banging on the door with his fist.
Sancia opened the door little more than three seconds later. It was barely nine in the morning but she was wearing a pristine white sundress and had a full face of make-up on, so she had evidently been expecting visitors. ‘Luciano...’ she said, wreathed with welcoming smiles.
‘Sancia...’ he grated, moving past her to stare in shock at the array of photographs and paintings decorating the cottage living room. ‘What is all this?’ he breathed.
‘Well, you should know,’ the blonde said archly. ‘You insisted on giving it to me.’
‘You asked me for it—you wanted it for your book,’ Luciano reminded her.
Only moments into their visit and Jemima was already feeling better, for she could already see that Luciano had had no part in creating the shrine in the room to his late wife. That, it seemed, had been solely Sancia’s doing.
‘It’s been like this ever since the year she died,’ the blonde fielded, playing it for all she was worth.
‘You’re the only person who has ever used this place.’ Luciano released Jemima’s hand and swept up a book from the coffee table. ‘Wasn’t the book enough for you?’